


Peace Inside a War

by saltsanford



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/F, RVB Ladies Night, rvb ladies night 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 21:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltsanford/pseuds/saltsanford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You remember the person who first made you laugh in the middle of a war. Written for RvB Ladies Night 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace Inside a War

The mission goes badly.

Looking back, Katie Jensen doesn't know how all eight of them made it out alive. This is partially because their extraction had consisted entirely of luck rather than any real skillful planning, and partially because she has already starting blocking the nightmarish experience from her memory.

But: it went badly. There's no forgetting that part, no matter how hard she might try.

They make it home and huddle in a corner of the training room, sitting closer together than perhaps they would normally, as if to reassure each other that they are still breathing, still alive, still _there_. In this moment, they are not soldiers. They are eight women who are desperately hoping that they do not become seven, or five, or two.

The silence stretches on and on until one of their numbers jumps to her feet so suddenly that half of them swivel apprehensively towards the door, and the other half start to raise their guns. But it's only Petra, Petra with her pink accents, Petra with her ultra calm battlefield voice-

Petra, with her long dark braid that unfurls from her helmet as she removes it. "Okay, we have to...we have to _do_ something. We can't just _sit_ here, we have to..."

She actually spins around in the circle, eyes searching. They all watch her, confused and dumbfounded. Katie gazes, mesmerized, as Petra's braid swings like a pendulum, back and forth across her shoulder blades-

and when she gasps, "oh!" and takes off across the training room floor, the braid sails behind her like the tail of a kite.

Katie is so distracted by this miraculous braid ( _why_ is it so miraculous, she has never cared about hair in her life, hers or anyone else's, and yet, _and yet_ ) that it takes her a few minutes to realize that Petra has found a _ball_ , and is marshaling them all into position while explaining the rules of a game, a game called-

"Volleyball?" Katie asks doubtfully. She's the only one not standing and is clutching her rifle as if it's a life preserver. "Like...sports?"

Petra grins, holds out her hand. "Like _fun_."

Katie hesitates, but the pull of the word _fun_ is too foreign and irresistible for her to put up much of a fight, and she allows Petra to haul her to her feet. She isn't sure that she _would_ use the word fun to describe the frantic pace of the game that follows, but her teammates are laughing, really _laughing_ , and joking, and removing their helmets to reveal eyes bright from something other than tears.

Katie manages to avoid taking her turn- serving, they call it-twice before Petra pushes the ball into her hands. "C'mon, Jensen, give it a go..."

She gives it a go. The ball sails shakily into the air before landing with an unceremonious _thud_ three feet to her left.

Petra laughs, but the sound is not at all unkind. She takes Katie's hand, holding onto it for few seconds before turning it over and tracing a circle on her wrist. "Here. You have to hit it with _this_ part of your wrist, right here. Try it again."

They both have their gloves and gauntlets on, so there is no way for Katie to feel the warmth from Petra's palm. No way at all. But the place where their hands touch suddenly glows red hot, and she thanks all the gods she does not believe in for the helmet covering her burning cheeks. 

It takes three more tries, but Katie finally manages to get the ball over the net. They all cheer, and to her surprise, the game isn't so bad after that. She cowers every time the ball flies at her face and, even when she does manage to hit it, it's a haphazard sort of thing. But Petra is there, to rescue the ball from her wild swings and bump it back into place.

And it's worth it, Katie thinks, when she looks around and sees her squad giggling and smiling, and they play until they're all exhausted and sweaty and half of their armor is piled up on the side of the makeshift net they threw together.

She looks at Petra, with her shiny black hair falling out of its braid, and her soft brown eyes and perfectly flushed cheeks and thinks, _uh oh_.

Katie clears her throat, says, "hey, uh. Volleyball!"

Petra turns around, a smile pulling just the left side of her mouth up. "Yeah?"

"Um. Thanks."

***

The nickname sticks.

It sticks and several weeks later, Katie is dragging an exasperated Kimball over to their net in the training room. "You gotta watch her, you gotta! You said we need someone on the mission who has a good arm and I'm telling you, she's it!" 

Petra freezes as they enter, the volleyball tucked under said arm. "Um-?"

Katie is suddenly very, very aware of the fact that three quarters of the room is staring at her, and she comes to a halt so quickly that she ends up jerking Kimball back a few paces. "Sorry! Just, um," she glances at Petra. "Show her. That thing you can do with the ball. The pike thing."

"You mean spike?"

Her glance turns into a glare. "Oh, just do it-"

Petra shrugs with one shoulder only, just like that little half smile she does with only one side of her mouth, and backs up until she's at the edge of the room. Lines herself up. Readies the ball.

Spikes it so hard that it ricochets violently off of the opposite wall and misses Palomo's slack-jawed face by inches.

Katie feels an odd swell of pride in her chest, as if she were the one with the glorious arm and the killer aim. "See? Did you see?"

"Yes, Jensen, I saw," says an exasperated Kimball, but she's surveying Petra with a critical eye. "That's one hell of an arm, Private."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Hmmm." Kimball looks between Petra and Katie. "Alright, Volleyball. You're in."

***

The mission is a success.

Katie knew it would be, of course. There was no way things could go wrong, _no way at all_ , and if she spends all morning skulking around the landing bay waiting for the Pelican to return, well, it's only because someone has to make sure the plane lands safely.

The plane lands. The relief that Katie feels when she sees pink armor is a weak-kneed thing, and she has to steady her palm against the wall and _breathe_ , for a moment. The crew is laughing, giddy with adrenaline and delirious with relief that they have all returned alive. 

Petra is at the center of the crowd, and Bitters actually puts a hand on her shoulder, says "nice arm, Volleyball," then retreats before anyone can work out what he just said. Petra blinks after him, then shakes her a head a little, and although Katie can't see her face, she can imagine perfectly the little half smile that's pulling the left side of Petra's mouth upwards.

"Katie!"

Petra's noticed her now and is breaking away from the rest of her squadron. She removes her helmet as she jogs over, and Katie's stomach drops when she sees the blood trickling from her hairline. 

"What happened?" Her own voice is high and anxious, and without thinking, she removes her gloves and touches her fingers gingerly to Petra's hairline. 

Petra's brow furrow in confusion, and she lifts her hand up as well. "Oh, that. Things got a little rocky on the flight out. I'm fine, don't worry."

Katie frowns a little, but now that she sees the wound up close, she can see that the blood has already dried. She's also hyper aware of just how soft Petra's hair feels beneath the tips of her fingers, and it's this sensation, perhaps, that unhinges her enough to blurt, "'But I _was_ worried. About you."

"I know." Petra nods. "I know. Sometimes I think waiting is even harder than fighting-"

"No, no, I was...I was like, really worried. About you. Really, really worried. Like, a lot."

She isn't sure why it's so important that she stress this point, but it seems vital, somehow, and Petra seems to get it, because her hand wraps around the back of Katie's fingers, and she gives them a little squeeze. "I worry about you, too. Like, a lot."

And then she's using her free hand to unseal Katie's helmet and remove it from her face, and oh god, she's leaning in-

but all she does is press their bare foreheads together, and Katie closes her eyes, says, "we're okay?"

It comes out as a question, and Petra answers. 

"We're okay."


End file.
